Above the Sacred Lands

All the spirits were marching on
Hope had vanished, blanked the dawn
Strained the mortal blackening sheet
Above the Sacred Lands

The tide had turned

Dark forces pervaded all
Poisoned what was once pure
A thousand thorns
Stabbed deep inside
Triconicus; damnation’s seed was sown

Fate was decided and pronounced
It was doomed

There’s no right
There’s no wrong
A king appeared
Formed by death